The Unlikely Side Effects of Floo Powder
by Miss Augurey
Summary: Floo Powder--the silvery powder used in the wizarding world for transportation through a network of fireplaces. What could any of that have to do with Draco and Hermione?
1. Chapter One

**Chapter: One**

**Title: The Unlikely Side Effects of Floo Powder**

**By Miss Augurey**

**_Invented in the late 1200's by Ignatia Wildsmith, Floo powder has been used as a common means of transportation for over 700 years. By simply throwing the silvery powder into one's fireplace, stepping into the harmless flames, and speaking the name of the desired location, any person (young or old) may travel to most any place in the wizarding world. Floo Powder can be purchased at any Dervish and Banges__ for 2 galleons a cauldron-full (a good buy, says last month issue of Witch Weekly). _**

**~Advertisement for the Ministry of Magic's own brand of Floo Powder **

It was only 8 o'clock in the morning and Potions Professor Severus Snape was already having a bad day.

As he had been eating his breakfast, some idiotic owl (what was it those Weasley brats had called it? Errol?) weighed down by an overly large package had temporarily lost its ability to fly and had landed in the plate of eggs in front of him, spilling Snape's morning coffee on the surprised professor as well as Minerva—who was always extremely irritable in the mornings. 

Then, robes wet from the spilled coffee in the worst place possible, he had the pleasure of having to walk through the hall to change them before his first (and very early) class. Trying to ignore the stifled giggles of the students, he had miscalculated a step, caught himself on his robe and had landed, face up, on the cold marble of the floor. 

The whole hall had broken into a roar of laughter, Snape fleeing quickly away from the embarrassing, migraine-inducing din. 

Now, he stood in front of his Advanced Potions class, malevolently eyeing the drowsy seventh-years and wishing that he had spoken to Dumbledore about evading this certain lesson (which he thought would fit better in the remedial potions class).

To top it all off, the coffee spill had caused an immediate need for a shower, and his hair was now a thick and frizzy (and people wondered why he kept it so oily). 

Sighing and wishing that he had Longbottom or the Weasley in the class to bark at for doing something stupid Snape held up a small vial of silvery powder and glared at his students. 

"Potter! Tell me, what is this potion called and what is its use?

Harry Potter stared at him for a moment, wishing that he was anywhere but in this dungeon classroom. He looked a bit puzzled as he turned his gaze upon the small vial and some of the class claimed they saw Snape roll his eyes. 

"I didn't expect even you to be this daft, Potter," he said, putting the vial down in front of him. "Miss Granger, put your hand down; I am not going to call on you." He sighed, rubbed his temples with his long, pale fingers and looked back up at the class. "This is Floo Powder, something that I expect all of you have used at one point or another and something that I expected all of you--" he looked pointedly at Harry "—to have known about. I was obviously wrong."

Harry looked indignant. 

"You called it a potion. Floo powder isn't a potion," he said quite snappishly. Hermione and Snape sighed and almost the exact same time.

"Once more, you have proven your intellect Potter," the professor declared sarcastically. "Not all potions are liquid, for those of you that are under that impression," he continued, scanning the eyes of the class before him. "Well?" he barked. "Why aren't you writing this down?" 

There was a scramble for quills and parchment, but Snape didn't wait. He began dictating quickly the history and the global uses for what he called _"a mode of transportation for blithering idiots._" 

"The only intelligent way to travel is by Apparation or Portkeys," he finished, feeling much better after his rant about the idiots that ran the Department for Magical Transportation. "Now, could I have two students that--" he stopped as a hand shot up in the air. 

"Of course. Miss Granger, do you think it wise to volunteer without first knowing exactly what you are volunteering for?" he asked, he voice dripping with false politeness.

Hermione, who sat next to Harry in a row near the back, turned slightly red in the cheeks but made no move to put her hand down. 

Snape sighed. "Fine Miss Granger, please come up to the front of the classroom."  He looked up, waiting for another student to raise their hand. 

In the few moments that Snape had been speaking to Hermione, the level of chatting in the classroom had risen from none to enough to set off the pain in Snape's head again, and the professor ground his teeth. 

"Malfoy!" he ground out, "to the front of the classroom immediately." 

Draco Malfoy turned from his place between Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, quite irritated and mentally kicking himself for letting Snape overhear him call him a "slimy, Dumbledore-loving kiss-ass." His status as class pet had suddenly disappeared and Draco quickly learned that he would have to study to do well in Potions (something that he certainly didn't like).

He shot a quick glance at Snape before deciding it would be wise to finish the conversation with Zabini and Nott later—how disappointed the two must be, not being able to hear every detail about Draco's new _Nimbus 3000_.   

Hermione visibly blanched as she watched Draco move to the front of the classroom. 

"Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath, before regaining her composure and adopting the snootiest and better-than-thou look on her face that she could muster. 

'I won't even say a word to him,' Hermione thought, turning away from Malfoy, 'he isn't worth a syllable from me.'

Draco didn't even acknowledge her existence. He had better things to do than pay any sort of attention to such a short, bushy-haired beaver like the girl that stood next to him. He decided that he wouldn't even deign to talk to her and immediately stuck his nose in the air (the resemblance between him and his mother was now uncanny). 

Draco, preoccupied with looking as condescending and snobbish as possible, knocked Hermione's shoulders as he turned around. 

"Watch it Granger!" he snapped, mentally cursing himself for already breaking his inner oath.

"It was your fault Malfoy—you were the one who bumped into me," she spat back, the high-and-mighty routine disappearing instantly.

Draco stared back at her coldly. "Oh right. The little mudblood can't ever do anything wrong, now can she?" he remarked softly enough that only she could hear. 

Hermione flinched at the name but only stepped closer to Draco, her eyes never leaving his.

"Don't you think that your insults are getting a little old, Malfoy?" 

"Don't you think your magical skills are getting a little off, Granger?" he challenged, mimicking her.

Hermione only stared back at him. How he knew, she didn't know, but her grades had been slipping just enough so that she had to work terribly hard to keep on top of all of her classes. Between Advanced Transfiguration, Potions, Arithmancy, DADA, History, Runes and Charms (and the ever looming NEWTS) Hermione finally learned what being tired of school felt like. 

The day before, in Runes, she had gotten a less-than-perfect score on her test. The fresh wounds from that nightmare were only beginning to heal. 

Hermione opened her mouth, surely to say something quite intelligent and biting back to Malfoy, but Snape cut her off as he began to list the experiments that they would be using to make their own Floo powder in class. Hermione resigned herself to staring viciously at Draco as they scurried in and out of the Snape's storage room adjacent to the class. 

When most of the ingredients had been mixed into the cauldron in the middle of the room, Snape beckoned for Draco and Hermione to carry the last to ingredients to the center. 

"What makes Floo Powder worthy of this class's time is the temper of the potion itself. If these last two ingredients--" he motioned to the black beetle eyes and monkshood that Draco and Hermione were holding "—are not added at the exact same time, then the potion will either be worthless or will explode." Some of the class gulped, praying that Draco and Hermione's feud would stop long enough for them to complete their jobs correctly. 

Snape turned to watch as the two students carefully added the last ingredients. Perhaps he had been right to choose these two for such a potion—Granger had easily the best marks out of all of the students in the entire school, and Draco was never far behind. He had little to worry about even when they helped make the more complicated of his potions 

As the potion in the cauldron suddenly solidified, the class gasped. Hermione rolled her eyes (hadn't anyone else read about Floo powder in this years Potions book?) and glimpsed Draco yawning. Evidently he wasn't that impressed either. 

"Now, if one of you would like to test it," Snape said, gesturing towards the fireplace in which a fire was already blazing. The professor turned towards them. "Throw the powder in, step inside the flame and ask to be taken back to this exact fireplace."  He turned back towards the class, trying to inconspicuously flatten out his hair with his hands. 

"The different philosophies that accompanied the creation of Floo powder are even simple enough for all of you to comprehend." He looked pointedly at Harry and received only a cold stare back. "Say you ask to be taken to the same fireplace you are traveling from—what then? This will be illustrated by one of our volunteers in a few moments, but first, I need to explain the simpler arithmancy of the Floo Network—"

As Snape talked on to the class, Hermione collected a small bit of the powder into a vial and began to head towards the fire. 

"Move Granger," said Draco pompously, grabbing the vial out of her hands. "You'll only mess this up." 

If at any time in the future anyone would have asked Hermione Granger how much demonstrating the use of Floo Powder in Potions meant to her, she probably would have laughed. Truly, she couldn't have cared much less. But the way that Malfoy had so suddenly taken the vial from her—the way his stupid hair was always gelled, his robes always spotless and perfectly ironed, the way he had teased her from the beginning of their first year at Hogwarts—had for some reason compelled her to try and grab the potion back from him.

"Give it back," she snapped under her breath, eying the back of Snape's head to make sure that he wasn't witnessing her childish behaviour. 

"I will not," Draco said indignantly, only tightening his grip on the Floo powder. The tug of war that ensued only ended with a final yank from Malfoy, sending him hurtling towards the fireplace and Hermione nearly falling back onto the counter. 

Quickly, Draco added the powder to the flames and watched them turned green, looking back to smirk at Hermione.

Instead, he felt a tug on his robes that made him step a few steps away from the fire. He glared at the small girl who was now clinging to his arm, panting and nearly blowing smoke from her ears. 

Snape was now traveling backwards, closer to the counter and the fireplace so he could demonstrate what he was dictating, never once turning around to see what exactly some of his pupils were gaping at. 

Hermione tried to turn Draco around in a circle so that she would be the one closer to the fire, but that only led to a small scuffle and her almost falling off her balance. Squeaking, she tried to right herself, using Draco as support. 

Snape, now finally irritated to the point that he felt he should stop his lecture, turned around to see exactly what was going on between the two students behind him. 

He caught the edge of Hermione's shoulder, which sent her crashing on top of Draco.

Perhaps Draco had gained some muscles throughout the years, and perhaps he was tall enough to withstand a blow or two. But the full weight of Gryffindor's Head Girl was enough to send him backwards. 

"Mufrohgr--!"

"Thrunph--!"

In a moment, both of them fell into the green flames, muffled obscenities flying from their mouths. 

There was a flash of light and Snape turned to look at the green flames that were the only thing that filled the fireplace in front of him. He heard a few gasps from the nearly silent Potions class behind him and resisted the urge to scream.

This wasn't going to be a good day.

**Author's Note:** Hoped you liked it. This is my first fic, so I'm hoping it isn't really as bad as I think it is. I'd love to hear if you (for some reason) liked it so reviews are hoped for, dreamed about, all I want for Christmas, etc etc. Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read all of this—makes me all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it. (Please excuse the fluffy-bunnies and rainbows-ish feel of this AN. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry.)


	2. Chapter Two

**The Unlikely Side Effects of Floo Powder**

**Chapter Two**

**By Miss Augurey**

**_The Floo Network has been up and running for over 400 years and there have been hardly any real problems. Well, there may have been a misplacement here, or an accidental transport of illegal items there, but we at the Ministry are very proud of our transport standard for . . .  well  . . . standardized transportation. We deal with any problems in a calm and collected manner, and we have never failed to locate a person or reattach a body limb. Yes, well, that is, of course, until the incident at Hogwarts. _**

**--Cornelius Fudge, Minister of ****Magic****, ****Great Britain******

_Last time:_

_There was a flash of light and Snape turned to look at the green flames that were the only thing that filled the fireplace in front of him. He heard a few gasps from the nearly silent Potions class behind him and resisted the urge to scream._

_This wasn't going to be a good day._

*

The silence was almost palpable—there were no giggles or whispers or even breaths. The only sound in the classroom was that of the crackling of the flames as they slowly turned back from green to orange.

Snape himself was speechless. He stared at the fireplace, willing the two students who had disappeared there moments before to reappear—whole, alive, and perhaps having ceased fighting. Instead, the last of the green in the fire disappeared.

Harry stared viciously at the back of his professor's neck.

"You did this," he declared, breaking the silence and directing his statement pointedly at Snape. "You made Hermione work with Draco and you're the reason she's gone."

Snape turned around and matched the hatred in Harry's visage with his own venomous stare. 

"Stupid boy," he muttered, looking up at the rest of his class. 

"You may have just killed her," Harry said, nearly yelling now.

"How can you even think of that stupid mudblood when my poor Draco's missing?" Pansy suddenly screeched, melodramatically sniffing, trying to push the tears out of her eyes so to look even more pitiful. 

Harry looked over at Pansy disdainfully. 

"Why are you even here?" he asked, suddenly wondering what a dunderhead like Parkinson was doing in the Advanced Potions class.

Pansy turned a light shade of pink as Snape turned his eyes to her and raised an eyebrow.

"I . . . I . . . was showing Blaise my new manicure," she began, trying not to look even the slightest bit embarrassed. "I have a free period and—oh! That's not the point!" Pansy wailed and squinched up her face in what Harry thought must be a look of sadness. 

"M-my poor Draco is gone!" even Blaise was beginning to look irritated.

"You can't really care about that stupid git, can you?" asked Harry incredulously. He snorted. "Typical. Just typical."

Pansy looked up. 

"What's typical?" she snapped. "The love of my life has just . . . " she burst into fake sobs again.

Snape, who had only just recovered, barked loudly at both of them to shut up. 

"Miss Parkinson, get out of my class, and _sit down Potter _or, I swear to Merlin, you will pay."  
  


Pansy slunk out of the room and a bewildered Harry sat nearly automatically, frowning afterwards at his obedience.  Snape didn't even take the time to notice his small victory.

"You—all of you: copy down the last two pages of Chapter three and DO NOT go ANYWHERE near the fire. Do you understand?" he asked the shell-shocked class. They all nodded dumbly. "Good. I need to see Dumbledore. When you are finished, you may leave," he said, half of his body already out the door. 

Fifteen seconds after he left, the class was empty except for a few pieces of stray parchment still floating down to the floor, blown up into the air from the rush to get out of the classroom.

Deep in thought, Severus swept down the hallways, paying very little attention to anything. 

So it was really his fault when he knocked into that suit of armour, but he blamed the stationary object anyway.

When he reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office, he nearly turned back, remembering the password and dreading to utter it. But this was a matter that the headmaster had to know about.

And, Albus always kept biscuits in his office—the kind that Snape was rather fond of. Having left breakfast early, he was quite hungry. 

After nearly pleading with the gargoyle to let him in, Snape sighed and mumbled something incoherent

Nothing moved.

Snape clenched his fists, and, grinding his teeth, he managed to speak:

"Pretty purple fairy lights," he said, nostrils flaring as the gargoyle moved to ____ the spiral staircase. Snape could have sworn he heard it giggling. 

Dumbledore looked up and smiled when he saw Snape enter his office. 

"Severus, how nice to see you so unexpectedly. Would you care for some tea?" he asked good naturedly as he set down his own cup.

"No thank you, headmaster . . ."

"Yes, yes, I remember those years when I was young—used to skip a class perhaps, to rebel," Dumbledore looked reminiscently through Snape. "Of course, that usually happened when I was a student, not a teacher," he continued, focusing back on Snape, his eyes sparkling like they always did. "Care for some tea?"

"_No thank_ _you headmaster," Snape said again impatiently. "I really must tell you--"_

"When I was young, we never visited the headmaster when we skipped class," Dumbledore mused. He laughed to himself. "Ahhh, but perhaps times have changed. I remember this one time, when I was but a tiny sixth year—my beard only two feet long back then, and more silver than white--"

"Headmaster! Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy just disappeared into the Floo network!" Snape finally snapped.

Dumbledore looked up.  

"How?" he asked simply

Snape told him of the events of the Potions class that day and Dumbledore immediately forgot about his tea and his memories. 

"Do you know how serious it might be?" Dumbledore asked finally.

"They entered the Floo Network simultaneously, neither speaking coherently," Snape responded. "They might have turned up somewhere in China for all we know."

"More than that," Dumbledore said softly. "They could very well be . . . dead."

Suddenly, Dumbledore was very, very serious. 

The first thing that Draco noticed as he came to was the aching pressure in his chest. 

Wait: scratch that—**on** his chest. 

He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was lying on a wooden floor with a girl lying on top of him. 

It wouldn't have been that bad if he hadn't woke up any further and pretended that the floor was comfortable, his mouth wasn't full of soot, and there wasn't a light layer of auburn brown hair covering his face that belonged to a certain know-it-all. 

As Hermione quickly came to and immediately screamed shrilly (rolling off of him as quickly as she could) the room finally came into focus.

Draco cringed. Everything, including both he and Hermione, was covered in dust. The corners of the room they now stood in were not visible, the cobwebs were so thick, and the floorboards only a few paces away from him were black from rot. 

He looked up at the screaming, bushy-haired, soot-covered girl that was sitting beside him, and the headache that must have been waiting for the most opportune moment kicked in. 

Draco grasped his head and eyed Hermione warily as she finished screaming, then spoke, his voice coming out a croak as he tasted ash.

"Is this hell?" 

 __

A/N—Sorry that was so short. I promise to do better next time. Thank you so much for all of the reviews—they literally turned a very horrible day into an amazing one. To know that people actually liked your story . . . well, it made me write a whole lot faster, let me tell you that much. I promise to update soon, and I'm sorry if there wasn't enough D/Hr action in this chapter—there will be soon. Excuse me for using Snape so much also—but he really is very fun to write for. I really do love you for reading this story (and especially this author's note) Loves—Miss Augurey 

Thanks to: Jesse S (for being my first reviewer! Wow—you don't know how much that means!) Siriusly Searching for Black (very cool name, I'm glad you like it) SingSingMa (thanks!) awaysheflew (you're way too kind—thank you so much for all the happy butterflies that your review got going in my stomach. I hope you like this chapter) Shattered Halo (I'm glad you like the style and I'm sorry if I ever do anything wrong—your review is the kind that makes me want to be a better writer) Aurora (I'm glad you liked the whole Snape part and I'm sorry if there was too much in this chapter. And Harry's not dumb, per se. He's . . . just . . . naïve? Hee hee) Vivian (I'm glad you liked it—I just hope I updated fast enough) hyparly4suger (cute name, thanks!) mouse (aww, thanks. Hope you like this new chapter too!) merryday (thanks--hope you liked it!) and riverseaocean (Thanks! I tried to make it as original as possible. Please tell me if I get stereotypical)


	3. Chapter Three

**The Unlikely Side Effects of Floo Powder**

**By Miss Augurey**

**_The Malfoy Family originated over five hundred years ago in the South of _****_France_****_ and has, to this date, been a pure blooded wizarding family and one of the most elite lineages in the wizarding world. Currently, we are worth over one million galleons and growing, though I will not divulge the actual sum. We have businesses in ten different industries, in twelve different countries and I am currently acting as advisor to the board until the newest head turns eighteen and becomes CEO.  Floo Powder? I do believe that we used to monopolize the market until . . . oh, well, I didn't know that wasn't your question. . . . of course not. Only simpletons floo—neither I nor any of my family would ever do such a thing. _**

**--Narcissa Malfoy, Acting Head of _Malfoy__ Industries Inc, _Interview in Witch Weekly**

_Last Time:_

_"Is this hell?" _

_*_

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes, causing some of the dust clinging to her lips and her eyelashes, to fly off onto the grimy floor. 

"Don't be an ass Malfoy," she said quickly, eyeing him with her eyebrows raised. 

Draco's usually white blond hair was now gray from the coating of dirt and dust, and his usually spotless robes were wrinkled and as dirty as she had ever seen them. Forgetting that she too must be in disarray, Hermione smirked as she watched Draco inspect his own cloak.  He looked up quickly and she couldn't help but snicker at the way his hair had gone completely floppy after the tumbling in the fireplace. 

Draco scowled back at her, and was about to say something when he finally took in the state that Hermione was in. The frown melted into a mischevious sneer almost immediately. 

"You should probably check that your skirt is long enough, Granger, before sprawling out on the floor like that . . ." he drawled as Hermione looked down and gasped.  " . . . Because as much as I will love telling everyone at school the exact color of your knickers, I'm not exactly sure how much longer I can stand the peep show."

Red in the face, Hermione smoothed out her skirt and crossed her legs as Malfoy started laughing. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked snottily as she carefully rose from her position on the floor beside him. 

He eyed her again and his head darted to the side just enough so he could glimpse up her skirt again before she stepped away. When he saw that she hadn't noticed, he smirked up at her. "Only that the site of an ugly mudblood's knickers is enough to send any decent man off a nearby cliff."

Hermione rolled her eyes again and stared down at him condescendingly. "You never stray far from those two insults, do you?" she asked, "and to think I never wondered why everyone said you had the intelligence of a gnome—_and the face of one too," _she finished, just loud enough for him to hear. 

Draco's smirk faded and he glared up at her. 

"Just because someone as backwards and asexual as you can't see what a perfect specimen I am doesn't mean that all the other girls haven't noticed."

"Pansy doesn't count," Hermione said, her eyes narrowing. "And for your information, it would be scientifically impossible for a human to be asexual, unless the  . . . ." she continued

"Yeah, well, the exception always proves the rule," Malfoy sneered. "And trust me, Pansy is one in many. If you don't believe me, ask your Gryffindor pals when we get back," he finished, getting up and facing her, arms folded.

Thinking that her eye muscles might break from all the overuse, Hermione rolled her eyes again. "But before we get off topic," she started sarcastically and then looked around. "Where are we?" Her voice was suddenly a little quieter, a little less sarcastic. 

Draco uncrossed his arms and looked around him at the shack that they were standing in. Squinting his eyes and wiping the dust from his eyelashes, he took in the line of shot glasses on an old wooden counter and the three or so barstools scattered around the room. There were tables every few feet, covered in cobwebs, and a few glass bottles smashed on the ground or sitting on the tables—for what, from the look of them, must have been centuries. 

Hermione began backing up, trying to get a better look at her surroundings, when she heard the muted crack of wood under her feet. Her shoes now rested partway on the rotted out floorboards that she hadn't seen, and, as they began to crack, she strained to keep her balance and not fall into whatever was below them. Her arms windmilling, her body began falling backward; she didn't even have a chance to cry in surprise before she felt her self losing her balance. 

Then, Draco's hand shot out, grabbing her hard around her upper arm, pulling her back onto stable floor. He didn't even look her way as he continued to grip her arm and study his surroundings.

"I think . . . that this is a pub," he said, almost mesmerized by the sight of total disaster in front of him. "A very old pub," he finished, finally looking over at Hermione, who was beginning to squirm uncomfortably in his too tight grip. She met his eyes quickly and wrenched her arm free.

"Thank you," she said stiffly, looking anywhere but at his face and taking the chance to notice exactly where they were. Gasping at the sight of a few deep red stains on the wooden tables, she inhaled enough dust to start coughing. Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust as she began choking on the thick air. 

"We should get outside before you hack up a lung or decide to jump onto another one of those cute little rotted spots in the floor again," he said, turning toward the door that he hoped led outside. 

Hermione followed him as he walked through the pub, avoiding any suspicious looking spots in the floor and reaching the door with a sigh as her coughing stopped. As they walked outside, she squinted in the morning light, hoping that her eyes would adjust soon enough. 

Draco turned around to face the building that they had just stepped out of, glaring up at the old wooden boards crudely fitted together, the chipped paint and the sign that hung just above the door, lopsided and almost illegible.

"The . . . _Dusty Dog,"_ he read with some difficulty. He laughed to himself. "Is that how the location came out?" he said to himself, as he shook his head. "We must be pretty far from Hogwarts—Hermione," he called over his shoulder, "look at this. I think we have a problem."

But there was no answer from Hermione and he didn't hear her turn around. Frowning and beginning to question why he even tried, Draco turned around.

"Hermione, I'm trying to . . ." he began annoyed, but his voice dropped off as he saw what Hermione was staring at. 

Before them, across a small paved road was an expanse of fields, green with the beginnings of crops. Beyond them, small hills rose, covered in grass and black and white spotted things. But lying in front of all of it, was a sign, freshly painted with newly planted shrubbery surrounding it, that neither of them could take their eyes off of:

WELCOME TO PATUKSY, KANSAS, HOME OF THE MIGHTY WILDCATS!!!


	4. Chapter Four

**The Unlikely Side Effects of Floo Powder**

**Chapter Four**

**By Miss Augurey**

**_. . . . Yes, yes, I can't believe that they said that . . . what? Am I on? Oh! Errr, yes, well, thank you, I'm very honored to be invited on to the show John. Of course, yes, well, it's the towns one-hundred and fiftieth anniversary and, as mayor of Patuksy, I am very happy to announce that the renovation plans for the town hall and the sewage system will commence three weeks from now, two days after the official celebration.  Yes well, I understand that that sort of thing can be a problem, but I'm not the one you should take it up with . . . well, no, I didn't know the sheriff said that . . .  My stand on the new safety regulations? Heh-heh, ehmmm . . . boy, it sure is hot in here isn't it? _**

**~Interview on _Wake up Patuksy _of Mayor Jonathon Helsing **

~*~

_Last Time:_

_WELCOME TO PATUKSY, KANSAS, HOME OF THE WILDCATS!_

~*~

Hermione would remember, years afterward, exactly how blue the paint around the border of the sign was, exactly how many petals were on the flower on the right hand corner, and even the number of cows in the distance. The image before became stuck, indelibly within her mind.

Of course, at the time, all she could focus on were the words before her. 

Kansas. Oh hell.

Draco just stared, not exactly sure what the sign before him meant—and wishing that he had paid more attention in World Geography when his governess had taught it to him so many years before (and it would have been easier had not she been under the impression that very short skirts and very tight blouses were apparel suited for a tutoring session). 

Kansas—it was in the United States, but where exactly?  And Patuksy? Was that some important wizarding center that he was supposed to know about? 

"Granger," he began slowly. "Do you, by any chance, know where we are?" Hermione came out of her stupor just long enough to look slightly irritated—as she always did when stupid questions were asked of her.

"You never went to a normal muggle school, did you?" she asked, suddenly interested in exactly how Malfoy knew enough math to take Arithmancy if he had never even gone to kindergarten.

"I had a personal governess," he said, eyes misting over as he fondly remembered Collette and her very shapely . . . legs. 

"If you had ever taken a class on World History," Hermione began in her usual tone, "you would know that—"

"I'm not here to hear you lecture about stupid muggle classes. It's a simple question: in relation to the wizarding world, where are we?" Draco snapped impatiently, wondering how soon he would be able to get back to Hogwarts and change out of his dirty robes.

Hermione stopped, mid-sentence, as she tried to generate what Draco had just said. Her mind finally working properly again, she looked at Draco in an eerily calm manner.

"Malfoy," she asked, perhaps too serenely, "do you have your wand with you?"

Draco's heart nearly stopped, then sank to his chest as he felt in his robes for his wand. Finding nothing, he turned around to go back into the old bar to see if he had dropped it in there.

Then he remembered placing down his wand next to Blaise's as he walked to the front of the classroom in Potions and he slowly over toward Hermione, who was now murmuring to herself.

"—neither of us have them, no way to contact a wizarding town, no way to contact Knight Bus or Dumbledore, no way to get home—" she continued and Draco turned back to the sign, suddenly all to aware of exactly what it meant.

"Bollocks"     

~*~

Snape rubbed his eyes as he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"So, you're telling me that, unless I know exactly what they said, there is no way for you to track them?" he asked, his voicing nearly cracking as he tried to control his temper.

The head within the fire nodded. "Yes sir, I'm sorry. Unless they used the Floo Powder officially manufactured by the Ministry, there's no way for us to track them."

Snape turned around and glared at the fire. "I will make sure," he hissed, "that the minister hears about this."

The head gulped and, with another—perhaps more sincere—apology, disappeared back into the flames.

Snape turned around. "Of all the moments the network personnel had to use the bathroom," he muttered. Professor McGonagall looked up from her hunched position beside Dumbledore's desk.

"Severus, what are we going to tell the Grangers and Ms Malfoy?" she asked quietly, her hand resting beside the two wands that Snape had found on his return to the classroom.

Snape nearly flinched at the names. Resisting the urge to go immediately back to bed and sleep, he looked up at the Transfigurations professor. 

"Dumbledore said that he would speak to them as soon as he returned from the Ministry. He said that Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy would perhaps find some way of contacting us if they were--"

"Severus," McGonagall interrupted, "they don't even have their wands."

Snape sighed again, and looked up as the door opened and Ron Weasely and Harry Potter stormed into the office, looking ready to murder. 

Really, of all the days not to drink his morning coffee.

~*~

Before she knew it, Hermione found herself next to a hyperventilating Draco Malfoy, and resisting the urge to laugh as he caught his breath.

Moments later, when he had fully recovered, she couldn't hide her amusement as he stared up at her from his crouched position on the ground.

" 'S not funny," he gasped, holding his chest and coughing as if to illustrate his point. "We have no way of ever returning to Hogwarts, ever." he said, if only a little melodramatically.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "We can walk down the road and find the nearest house," she said. "I'll ask to use the phone and call my parents, and then they can call Dumbledore or the Ministry," she finished, feeling much better herself as she stated the logic of her plan.

Draco stared at her blankly. "What's a 'phone?'" he asked, a moment later, a puzzled look on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just follow me," she said, hoping that, for once, Draco wouldn't be a total ass and do the logical thing (which was to listen to her).

Of course, this was Draco.

"No, I don't think I will," he said difficultly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't trust someone like you to lead us anywhere safe."

"Draco," Hermione said exasperatedly and impatiently—as she didn't want to spend a good part of the next hour convincing him to follow her.

And then it dawned on her.

"Why do I even care?" she said aloud, and began walking down the street towards Patuksy, leaving Draco standing by the edge of the road.

Moments later, she heard footsteps and watched, slightly annoyed, as Draco caught up to her and then began walking a few steps ahead.

"Going this way anyway," she heard him murmur as he passed her, and she, even though she would never admit it, a certain amount of the irritation quickly disappeared.

~*~

About two miles and forty-five minutes later, Hermione and Draco arrived at the first row of houses in the town. Each had matching mailboxes, matching green lawns and tulip beds. Hermione thought it was charming—Draco found it quite sickening. 

As they walked up onto the first house with a light on, Hermione tried to dust of the dirt and ash from her cloak and Draco tried to fix his hair. Ringing the doorbell Hermione turned to Draco.

"Remember, we're supposed to be going to California and we missed our flight," she said, praying that Draco wouldn't ask her again to explain how such huge contraptions as airplanes stayed aloft without magic.

She turned back just as the door began to open and immediately plastered a smile on her face.

The woman who opened the door had graying brown hair and a sweet, if slightly plain face. Her hands were white with what Hermione could only believe to be flour as she took in the flowered apron the woman before her was wearing.

"Hello---" Hermione began, bracing herself for the door to slam in her face, but instead she felt herself pulled inside by the smiling woman.

"Now aren't you two just adorable?" she said, as Draco and Hermione's eyes adjusted to the indoor light. "All the way from England—was your flight long?"  
  


Hermione stared at the woman, not believing what she was hearing. Too frazzled to actually answer the question, she quickly asked "may I please use the phone?"

The woman smiled and gestured to the cordless on the table next to her. 

"Go right ahead—I know you two must be homesick already," she said, smiling warmly at the two of them.

Hermione, still too confused to do anything else, picked up the phone and dialled her parents' home number. As she waited to hear the ring, she heard the woman talking to Draco in the background.

"—I couldn't believe that the high school here was participating, but here you are. Next year, they said they might even bring in cultural exchange students from France, now wouldn't that just be amazing, but right now I think our tiny town can only handle so much . . ."

Hermione put down the phone and turned back to the woman.

"It says that---" she began.

"Oh yes, silly me, can't believe I forgot." The woman said, wiping her hands on her apron. "There's some huge power outage in England and none of the phone lines are working in and around London. Now, back to the exchange program . . ."

Hermione was beginning to feel slightly nauseous and one look at Draco told her that the confusion wasn't really agreeing with him either.

"Exchange program?" she asked faintly.

The woman stopped speaking momentarily. "You _are _the cultural exchange students from that prep school in London, aren't you?" she asked quickly and probably would have waited for an answer, had not the oven timer beeped at that exact moment.

"Oh! Be back in a jiffy!" she said cheerfully.

Hermione sat down on the yellow paisley couch and Draco collapsed into the chair opposite her.

"Cultural exchange . . . power outage . . . London prep school" Draco muttered to himself as Hermione sat in silence, her brow furrowed as she tried to come up with a plan.  

"Malfoy," she murmured softly, repeating his name again to wake him out of his stupor. "We can't get in touch with England or anyone in the magical world, we have no money, no place to stay and no way of eating." She began, looking at him intently. "If we tell her that we're the cultural exchange students she's speaking of, then we'll be able to spend the night and sort out everything we need to."

Draco just stared at her like she had gone completely insane. Hermione sighed, about to repeat herself, but before she could, the overly cheerful woman returned from the kitchen.

"Well, the chicken is ready for dinner, and I just put on the peas" she said, looking from Draco to Hermione. "Would you like to see your room now?" she finished and Hermione looked tentatively over at Draco, who seemed to be listening to the woman a little more intently than she was.

"Room?" he asked hesitantly, worried about the singularity of the word. 

The woman nodded slowly. "We were under the impression that both of you were girls, and, because there are only so many rooms in this house, we thought it logical to put both of you in the same room." She looked at them suspiciously as they exchanged glances. "You two aren't . . . . involved, are you?" she asked, motioning between them with her fingers.

Hermione and Draco both laughed (perhaps a little too hard) and Hermione, in a moment of perhaps pure genius or pure stupidity (depending on how you look at it) quickly looked up at her.

"No, we're brother and sister," she said quickly, looking over at Draco as he immediately stopped laughing and began to glare at her. 

The woman peered at the both of them intently for a moment before smiling slowly again. "Yes," she began as she headed towards the stairs at the other side of the room. "I can see the resemblance."

Hermione and Draco both turned to stare at her, mouths hanging open and both of them nearly falling over before they caught themselves and got up to follow her. Malfoy began giving Hermione glances and making a miserable face (at the thought of resembling her, Hermione guessed).

"Now, because of the celebration and the opening of the factory, your schedule will be quite full for the next couple of days, so perhaps both of you should turn in a bit early tonight."

Hermione, who was looking forward to a nice shower and a good nap, smiled at the thought of sleep. Of course, then the woman opened the door to the room they would share--

A relatively small room with a single lamp and clock, a dresser, a door to what Hermione hoped led to the bathroom, and a full sized bed.

One full-sized bed.

Hermione and Draco both began laughing hysterically at the exact same moment.

~*~

A few minutes later, the two of them were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, alone in the room as Mrs Kramer (Hermione had finally remembered to ask her name) needed to check on the casserole.

"This is your fault, you know," Draco said, sulking as he toyed with the edge of his tie.

"Oh, it's not that bad," Hermione snapped angrily, the chaos of the day finally catching up to her. "We'll be able to contact my parents tomorrow probably, in a couple of days at the most. We'll only have to play along for a day or two."

Malfoy turned to stare at her. 

"I have to go to a muggle school," he began slowly. 'I have to eat muggle food and coerce with muggle children, and I have to sleep in the same bed as a mudblood—not to mention, the only thing I have to wear is _this._" He held up the red checked shirt that Mrs Kramer had given him after enquiring about the state of his robes, and Hermione rolled her eyes as he shook it melodramatically.

"And you think that this is my preferred choice?" she asked.

Malfoy smirked. "Sleeping in the same bed as a Malfoy? Do you know how many women would kill to be in your place?"

"More like kill ifthey were in my place—you specifically," she muttered, suddenly very much regretting ever volunteering in Potions in the first place.

Draco's smirk widened. "Fine," he said, "but I restate this: ask some of your Gryffindor friends." When he saw her blush, Draco laughed. "Or haven't you already?"

Hermione's blush deepened and she felt her ears grow hot as she remembered hearing Lavender Brown relate to Parvati just how well Draco Malfoy could kiss.

"Shutup Malfoy," she mumbled sullenly, not in the mood to hear him gloat. 

Draco tisked. "Poor Granger, probably never even felt a man's touch."

Hermione looked up. "I—I have too!" she said indignantly, regretting the words the moment that they flew out of her mouth.

Malfoy quirked his eyebrows. "I bet you've never even been kissed by Weasely," he remarked, his voice low as he began inching closer to her on the bed.

"Sod off Malfoy, she snapped, jumping up quickly as she wasn't in the mood to have a confrontation with Malfoy (on a bed, no less). She watched his face, hoping he wouldn't notice that her hands were trembling. 

He didn't. 

Instead, he turned back towards the other side of the bedroom, shaking his head and laughing bitterly. 

"Can't believe I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with _Granger,_" he muttered.

"Afraid that, for once, you'll have to take care of yourself?" Hermione snapped coldly.

Draco scowled and watched as the girl beside him walked swiftly into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. '_Merlin I hate her,'_ he thought, resisting the urge to scream and instead focusing all his attention on examining, for a third time, the plaid shirt in front of him. 

Hermione leaned against the door, pausing to catch her breath as she heard Malfoy begin to move about in the other room. '_Merlin I hate him,' _she thought, once again hoping that if she closed her eyes long enough, this mad world would melt away into something a little less crazy. 

Like, say, Wonderland or Oz—hell, she'd take Candyland at this point.

~*~

A/N: Sorry for all of you that had to wait for this and the last chapter and I'm _really _sorry for chapter three's length. Also, don't give up on me—I swear this won't turn into a "muggle high school" centered fic. There's actually a bit of a hint of what's to come in this chapter, but it's so small that I'm sure you won't notice it at this point. Anyway, hopefully I'll be able to update soon, but I can't make any promises. Thank you so much for all the awesome reviews—they're what really motivates me to write. Oh, and one more thing: _Floo powder was not mentioned to be green in any of the five books that JK Rowling has written. I've checked. The flames are green, but the powder itself has only been described as glittery. I was actually going off the definition from the HP Lexicon,  so . . . before you insult me personally, make sure you have your facts straight._

~Miss Augurey


End file.
